Gunship Page 3

  “At least they got good drink at the Dusk.” Dalton said to the group as he grinned from ear to ear.

  Michaels just shook his head for a moment before glancing up into the sky, wondering if there truly was a higher power that made a full time job out of torturing him.

  After walking for what seemed like an eternity in clothes that were clinging to their skin from the rain, they had arrived at the edge of the city. The bright lights and hustle of thousands of bodies were a welcome sight to anyone who had just been on a trip through the system, though the Captain had a knack for attracting the wrong type of attention here.

  It only took a few moments of holding up a fistful of credits before a transport shuttle came to a screeching halt; adding a few more dings to the already wretched yellow paint job. It was like a roll of the dice whenever you used a city shuttle in Tameca City.

  Sometimes you would land an android at the controls, and they weren't exactly famous for their conversational skills; providing a very serene trip to your destination. Other times, you were presented with a former convict or drunken lowlife who would give you the entire laundry list of rumors throughout the city in five blocks or less.

  After a couple of minutes of convincing the driver; who Dalton swore did jail time with him several years back on the small moon planet of Jocom, that they truly did want to go to the Dusk Tavern He put down his small flask of booze and began the trip.

  “Everyone is talking about the impending civil war between the planets,” the driver said as he passed the first intersection on his way to the bad side of town; traffic so thick it was almost unbearable. “The council should be voting on it one way or another this week, but everyone in Tameca knows that it's just a tactic to stall for time while they raise a large enough army. We will be fighting alongside the Colonial army, or at least that's what every newspaper here has been saying.” he added.

  The Captain, Dalton and Roman all tried to look and sound interested, though the only person with interest in the war to come was the whiskey laden driver.

  “So, what business do you guys have at the Dusk?” the driver asked.

  “No business of yours.” Roman sharply replied, earning him a glance from Michaels.

  “What my friend means is, we are meeting some old friends there. The kind of friends who wouldn't really like to be the subject of conversation.” Adam replied in a much friendlier tone than Roman had just finished with.

  “Understandable.” the driver said politely to the Captain as he gave the Roman a look filled with ill intention.

  “I simply meant that it's a rough place. Wasn't sure why anybody would go there willingly is all.” the driver said in a calm but probing voice as Dalton broke his stare from the window to answer.

  “They got damn good liquor there. Some of the finest I've ever drank, and I've been around.” The driver looked puzzled for a moment before answering with deep sarcasm.

  “Yes, I bet you have.”

  “What the hell is that supposed...” Dalton began to ask, turning his entire body to the driver in the process. But before he could finish, he was cut off by Michaels.

  “Can we stop with the drinking already! Don't you think about anything else?” he asked in a puzzled voice.

  Dalton was obviously in a deep, concentrated thought for a few moments.

  “Well yea. Guns. Women. You know, the essentials.” he responded as Roman broke out into a loud laugh for several seconds.

  The remainder of the ride lasted only a few minutes and was funeral quiet, the shuttle arriving at the Dusk as the driver looked around with paranoia; engine running loudly as the clanging of steel rods could be heard from its engine compartment.

  As Michaels handed the driver a small fist full of credits and thanked him, both Dalton and Roman were already waiting outside, almost as if the drink would run dry if they waited a moment longer.

  “Well, the place hasn't changed a bit.” Adam said, referring to the borderline condemned look of the Dusk.

  Wooden boards made up its exterior, the faded red color of the wood washed away with time giving the place a fragile look. The roof of course was still the same shiny aluminum material that had been the topic of discussion for citizens throughout the neighborhood.

  It had been long rumored that the aluminum was put into place to block the overhead scans from the city's security choppers, not that the security force was brave enough to enter the Dusk either way. It was a welcome sight to all three men as they cautiously approached the reinforced steel door that was guarded by two of the largest men any of them had ever seen.

  Both wearing solid black shirts, cargo pants and boots, they fit the profile of higher end mercenaries. Armed with light machine guns, they were the type of security that if you weren't on the list; you weren't getting into anything short of a casket. That is, unless you had a fist full of credits.

  As the three men approached a waist tall podium style computer, Adam placed his hand on the tinted glass top; trying his best to look casual as every fingerprint was thoroughly scanned. After a few moments, the tinted glass illuminated bright green, as the security detail slowly opened the door.

  “Welcome Captain, they're expecting you.” one of the mercenaries said.

  The men slowly entered, taking extra time to survey the surroundings. It was nothing more that a small wooden bar that was polished to a very fine grain, along with a handful of stools and several thick wooden tables near the entrance. They were also quick to notice a door behind the bar at the rear. Walking into its direction, Dalton would get in position to cover it just in case things went sour; or at least Adam thought.

  “Well, here's the liquor.” Dalton proclaimed proudly, completely disregarding the rear door while cradling a bottle of molasses black bourbon, smiling as if he had just become a father for the first time.

  So this is what the Dusk looks like after hours. Roman thought as he glanced around the room.

  Very dimly lit, there were only a few white track lights on the ceiling and a handful of red lights, giving a subdued crimson glow at the foot of the bar. It was empty for the moment, however that didn't stop Dalton from helping himself to a shot glass, standing behind the counter preparing his drink as if he were working for tips before joining the others at a small wooden table nearest to the center of the room. Michaels kept his eyes locked on the rear door, meanwhile Roman kept watch on the only other door in the place, the entrance.

  “Damn good bourbon, I'll say that much. Of course, I've never really had bad bourbon. Odd, don't ya' think?” Dalton asked his two comrades in a scratchy voice as he turned his glass up for a second hard shot.

  “I don't like waiting around like this.” Roman said softly, a statement which Captain Michaels was quick to agree with.

  “So what do you think they are needing moved so damn badly?” Dalton asked.

  “I don't know, but it looks like we are about to find out.” Michaels replied as two figures appeared from the door directly behind the bar.

  As they slowly approached, it quickly became obvious that they were in fact Hunters. One of them much larger than the other, they both were darkly dressed in all solid black leather, even down to the thick laced boots.

  “Captain Adam Michaels?” the smaller of the two asked in a curious voice. “My name is Anwick. There was never any mention of escorts coming with you to the meeting.” he said, visibly upset by the intrusion of both Dalton and Roman.

  He motioned toward them slightly with one of his hands, prompting the larger of the two Hunters to approach the men. At least a foot taller than anyone else in the room, his arms were swollen from use; muscles rippling throughout the large limbs.

  The same moment that the large Hunter firmly reached for their weapons in an attempt to disarm the unwanted strangers, Roman spun around and onto his feet; grabbing the Hunter's wrist with one hand and using the other to slam its head straight through the table, throwing wooden shards throughout the room. Anwick stood to his feet
swiftly.

  “What is the meaning of this?” he shouted at Michaels as he began to aid his friend.

  Almost instantly, Anwick found himself looking at the bad end of two shotgun barrels, both in the grasp of a slightly tipsy Dalton. “You realize that at my signal, I could have this room full of soldiers who would kill and dismember you inside of thirty seconds!” Anwick stated firmly, glancing hard at Adam.

  “Think so?” Roman asked calmly, applying pressure to the arm of the larger of the two Hunters, earning a painful screech.

  “Relax! Everyone just relax,” Adam said loudly as he remained seated. “You honestly didn't expect me to just walk in here alone did you? We both know what kind of reputation your kind has, and I would hope that you would consider me to be a bit smarter than that. You and I are here to do business, so let's do it.” Michaels added as he motioned toward the chair that Anwick had left only moments ago.

  As Anwick sat down slowly, he immediately glanced at Roman, who still had a commanding hold on his much larger opponent.

  “Roman, let him go.” Michaels said.

  Responding with a slight nod, he pushed the Hunter several feet back, releasing his arm with the same motion.

  “Lexion! Enough!” Anwick yelled as the larger Hunter began to walk directly toward Roman a second time.

  An awkward moment of silence fell across the entire room as it quickly became evident to the Captain that should the Hunters have their way, Roman was unlikely to walk out of the Dusk alive.

  “Anwick, I apologize. My crew is very protective when it comes to me as well as the cargo we transport. I hope you view this as an advantage when considering us for the job.” Michaels said in an attempt to settle the dispute.

  Anwick gazed through Roman for a few more seconds before breaking his stare and looking directly at Adam

  “Very well. We have business to discuss,” Anwick replied. “It is because you come so highly recommended that we are meeting here today,” Anwick said, referring to all of the friends Michaels had made in the past that were connected to the wrong side of the Legion. “Simply put, we have a package that we need to you take and deliver in exactly one week to Gastonia. You will earn fifteen thousand today and another thirty thousand at the time of delivery.” Anwick added, stating the terms with great clarity, his long and brittle white hair moving slightly as he spoke.

  Michaels remained quiet for a few moments, finally giving his answer to the business proposal. “It's going to cost you twenty five thousand up front and another twenty five thousand upon delivery.”

  Anwick took several long, heavy breaths before replying slowly. “I do not negotiate Captain Michaels. I offer the terms, you take them. That's how I conduct business.”

  Adam glanced over in the direction of Dalton, trying to figure out how many shots that had made for him already. “I'm not negotiating. We both know it must be a complicated delivery, otherwise you would have done it yourself. A complicated job pays what its worth in risk. Otherwise, I'm not the right man for the job. That's how I do business.” Michaels replied.

  Anwick stood straight to his feet, prompting Adam to do the same a few moments later. “Very well,” Anwick answered as both men stood only inches from one another. “I'll pay what you ask, however let me tell you this. You have one week. ONE. If you are even a second behind schedule on delivery, you should pray to the Gods that the authorities find you before we do. Otherwise death will be the least of your concerns.”

  Anwick gave a slight hand motion, prompting Lexion to walk to the door behind the bar, giving three hard thumps on it with his bone crushing fist. Seconds later, the door opened as four more men dressed similar to the ones outside of the Dusk entered, however, the difference became quickly obvious to Michaels and his crew.

  They were escorting a female prisoner, her hands in tight rope bonding and her head looking toward the floor. The Captain wasn't sure the reason, but as well dressed as she was, he suspected someone in a powerful position would be trying everything they could to get her back.

  “What's with the girl?” Michaels asked, dreading he already knew the answer.

  “You mean the package,” Anwick said smiling, the dim light bouncing off of his shard like teeth. “One week.” he added, holding a single finger up closely in front of Adam's face before walking through the door and exiting the room.

  One of the armed men dropped a black leather bag to the ground at Adam's feet; several Legion credits spilling out of the bag a moment after hitting the floor. He looked at the men for a moment, eventually reaching down and grabbing the bag.

  Lexion held the door open, the polluted air of the city sending a glimmer of light from the sunset as well as a push of civilized air into the Dusk.

  “May we meet again.” Lexion said smiling.

  Roman quickly rose to his feet and replied “I'll look forward to it.” as he quietly tapped his fingers across the handle of his combat knife.

  Dalton secured the half-empty bottle of bourbon into one of the cargo pockets of his pants, finishing off the rest of the shot glass in one fast motion; alcohol burning a familiar path all the way down to the pit of his stomach.

  “My compliments to the chef.” he said as he handed the empty shot glass to the nearest mercenary.

  As they began to leave, Lexion yelled loudly, prompting one of the well armed soldiers for hire to lead a young boy dressed in tattered blue clothing into the room at gunpoint.

  “Wait, they have a child in there!” the woman yelled loudly, her soft and soothing voice of sincerity catching Adam's immediate attention.

  “Not our fight,” Dalton said calmly to Michaels. “We are talking about Hunters here Adam. Two of them to be exact, not to mention a pile of tin soldiers.” he added as he nervously awaited a response from his Captain.

  “Please! They are going to kill him!” she shouted desperately with tears flooding her vivid blue eyes, obviously concerned for the boy's life. “Please!” she said once more, grabbing Michaels by the arm; their eyes locking together as they shared a moment of fate.

  Adam felt the urge to do the right thing beginning to overtake his better judgment, glancing at Dalton for a moment almost in apologetic fashion.

  “Ahh shit!” Dalton was able to get out softly before the stinging feeling of worth that came attached to helping someone in need hit Michaels as he had turned back into the direction of the door. Kicking it solidly, the reinforced obstacle quickly flew open, smacking abruptly against the wall behind it and gaining the attention of Lexion as well as the four heavily armed men.

  Adam's pistol threw two shots from the chamber almost instantly, the first hitting one of the armed men in the forehead and dropping him like a stone. The second shot pierced the chest of another soldier, throwing him against the wall before hitting the floor with an unforgiving thud; a trail of blood painting the wall bright red above him.

  Michaels knew well enough to seek cover before attempting a third shot, diving behind a table in the corner of the room just in time as dozens of slugs began to chew at the wooden barricade that separated them. As the two soldiers began walking slowly in the direction of the Captain, escorting themselves with a blanket of lead from their automatic weapons, they were both knocked to the ground forcefully by shells from the shotgun Dalton held in his right hand.

  An expert of his surroundings, he immediately dropped the empty weapon and spun around into the direction of the front door, putting a two handed grip on his other peacemaker. Anticipating the guards out front rushing them, he blindly fired two shots into the direction of the entrance. The first shell hit the frame of the door, sending up a wooden cloud of splinters, while the second shot found a target on one of the soldiers who fell to the ground in pain for a few moments before checking out of this life. Dropping his second empty weapon, he took shelter beside of the door, drawing both of his pistols at once; the dim light of the Dusk's interior shimmering across the brass inlays.

  Michaels had made it to the
boy and began to free his hands of the tightly bound rope when Lexion threw a backhand into his direction, sending the Captain several feet across the room. Smashing into the stockpile of intoxicating beverages, Adam fell limply onto the floor behind the bar under a storm of broken glass.

  “Son of a bitch.” Dalton said of the wasted liquor as he continued to exchange gunfire with the remaining soldier outside.

  As Lexion followed the path of destruction which led to the Captain, Anwick once again entered the room, taken back for a moment by the devastation, he quickly focused his anger on Adam; who remained limp on the floor behind the bar. Anwick's hands clamored for revenge as both Hunters approached the Captain.

  “Hey, bitches,” Roman yelled across the room, successfully gaining their undivided attention. “Get some.” he added, daring the walking beasts to a fight.

  Anwick quickly made his way into the direction of the marked man, Lexion following suit and releasing the grip he had on the front of Michaels' shirt allowing him to fall back to the ground. Roman pulled his combat pistol long enough to throw it across the room, sliding roughly on the aged floor as he confidently drew his tactical blade and squeezed his hands for a moment; several of his knuckles busting back to life.

  The boy was able to free himself in the following moments, running to the safety of stunningly beautiful lady as she stood behind Dalton. Firing several shots from the two pistols, he finally clipped the soldier outside on the shoulder, putting him down and rendering him defenseless.

  “Kato, I'm activating the beacon. Come get us now!” Dalton said out of breath as he pushed a sequence of buttons on the com unit, throwing it out into the street; the small globe on the front beginning to emit a soft white glow. “Now we hold tight and pray that our ride gets here before they finish us off.” Dalton said to the woman and child, putting them behind a small table near the door and checking the magazines of his pistols; the unmistakable odor of hooch on his breath.